WANDERLUST
by xxxray
Summary: If Tom Riddle wanted to rule the entire world, John Riddle wanted to rule everything in it. Short Chapters. Morally Dubious Characters. SI/OC.
1. COLDEST WINTER

**I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

 **WANDERLUST**

 **CH 1**

 **COLDEST WINTER**

It was often said that women were prettier when pregnant. Martha Cole couldn't bare to think of what Merope Riddle must have looked like before she had gotten this way. The girl dressed in woman's clothing had tentatively knocked on the door of Wool's Orphanage as if she didn't quite know what it was.

Only one boring, brown eye seemed to make direct eye contact. Her left eye was left whirling around looking at what God-knows-what. Her pale skin was covered in layers of dust and grime, as if she had been living on the streets for an indefinite amount of time. She was unfortunately skinny; her cheeks were sunken in and gaunt and her eyes held a hollow look about them. Martha had no doubt that her smile was, perhaps, one of her worst features.

Even as her thin, cracked lips barely moved - Martha could see the yellowed stains as if they were gold and many were either chipped or missing. She felt a shiver crawl down her spine. She could never understand why people let their teeth go that way but she had a feeling that Mrs. Riddle had no choice in the matter.

"P-pardon, Ma'am." Mrs. Riddle spoke out between her clenched jaw. "But is this the orphange?"

"Yes." Martha said softly as she swiftly tied her robe. The knock had sounded anxious and needy and the thought of a child being outside on such a cold night; it had filled her with dread. But at first glance, Martha realized that it wasn't just a child. There was only one are of fat on Mrs. Riddle's body and it was concentrated at her stomach and there was a sickeningly huge bulge that poked out. Martha had helped deliver a few babies but never had she attained such a disturbed feeling as she had when looking at the sac. That's what it felt like as if the bulge had taken over Mrs. Riddle's body and had left her weak and without nourishment.

"Good." Mrs. Riddle said weakly and without her bare, blackened feet seemed to hold her no longer and she crumpled to the ground. She was dressed in scraps of cloth. Her feet were swollen and there were at least a dozen of puffed up, puss-filled cuts. It was enough to turn Martha's stomach. She gagged but pushed through as pity filled her heart more than revulsion. Quickly, she scrambled to lift the younger woman up and pull her inside the warm building.

Mrs. Riddle looked up weakly at the ceiling before her. "I'm af-afraid, I have gone into labor." The way she spoke seemed broken, almost. Her accent was tangy and twisted and it was unlike anything Martha had ever heard before.

"How long?" Martha asked worriedly. "How long have you been in labor?"

"Since six this afternoon." Mrs. Riddle said. It was around nine now and the snow had begun to fill the streets once more. It was said to be the coldest night of the year, which was fitting, considering it was New Year's.

Martha leaned down. "Do you think you can pull yourself up? We have some nice warm beds. You can't very well give birth on the floor."

"It hurts."

"Oh, love, I know it hurts. But it's going to hurt a lot more if you're not comfortable." Martha's maternal instincts kicked through as she grasped Mrs. Riddle from under her arms and slowly lifted her up as much as she could. Mrs. Riddle gulped as she moved her feet. It about killed her to move but Martha guided her into the room designed for exactly this.

Mrs. Riddle wasn't the first of her kind to come knocking at Wool's Orphanage. In Martha's mind, that was the only thing Mrs. Riddle could be: a woman of the night. She couldn't see any sensible man letting himself love a woman who looked as Mrs. Riddle did. Certainly, Martha would never be able to do it.

It was only the second room down the hall. It had everything Martha would need and it had access to a bathroom where she could draw in some warm water. It was the only warm water they would be able to get in a night like this. It certainly wouldn't be the most comfortable labor a woman would endure, but a warm bed would have to be enough.

Martha managed to place Mrs. Riddle beneath the covers and she leaned back out of the hall and left to get someone to help her. She managed to drag forward one of the older girls who was around fourteen. She had assisted her before as well. "Now, Alice. Make no fun of her appearance. Understand." Martha whispered swiftly as she drug the tired, confused girl into the room. "Pull back her covers, check her. We need to make sure to know when the real labor begins?"

"The real labor?"

"Remember, when the baby starts to come." Martha said informatively. "Right, now, she's probably experiencing mild contractions. Tell me how many centimenters she is apart."

Alice creeped over to Mrs. Riddle, whose eyes were shut. "Miss," Alice said. "Miss, I need you to wake up. I have to check you."

"Check me?" Mrs. Riddle murmured.

"Yes." Alice pulled back the covers. "I need you to-", Alice blushed. "I need you to spread your legs so I can check to see how much you're dialated, for the birth."

Mrs. Riddle's eyes widened as a blush appeared on her cheek as well. She looked down and shifted her legs apart. She slid up her dress and Alice helped her remove her underwear. Alice squinted her eyes and checked. "Three centimeters." She said over her shoulder at Martha, who was gathering warm towels.

"Three centimeters? We have a long night ahead of us, Alice."

And long night it was. The clock ticked from eight to ten to eleven. It was nearing twelve when the pain really began and it was time for the birth. Martha had learned that Mrs. Riddle supposedly had a husband and that he was merely away for work. Of course, she didn't believe it. There was no way Merope could have ever gotten married. It wasn't even that she was too ugly, she was far too odd as well. She seemed to be uncomfortable with the very idea of existence.

"Are you prepared?" Martha said to Mrs. Riddle. She shook her head and closed her eyes as she let out a long moan of pain. "You're going to be a mummy. All will be well, soon. I just need you to start pushing. You have to help the child come through. Alice, get the towls. Dab at her face a little bit."

"I-I don't want to push."

"You're going to have to or it'll be worse for the both of you."

"I-" Mrs. Riddle shook her head as she clenched. She was cooperating. Martha eyed the scene before her with a feeling of sadness. Mrs. Riddle was far too skinny for anything like this. She was half-starved and it was miraculous she had been able to carry her child to full term. She had an awfully heavy feeling that Mrs. Riddle was going to die. She had an equally tiring feeling that Mrs. Riddle was as much aware of this as Martha.

The night carried on. The actual birth was much quicker than the long, enduring labor. As soon as the head was seen, it was easy from there. Martha grabbed the infant gently with the warm towel and the screams broke through and seemed to break the tense atmosphere. "It's a boy." Martha said as she handed him to Alice who quickly cut the cord and cleaned him off.

Alice brought the baby forward and Mrs. Riddle leaned her eyes to look at him. They were glazed over as she exhaled softly. "Tom." She said. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, after his father." She then squeezed her eyes shut as she groaned in pain again.

Martha checked her again and saw something that made her eyes widen dramatically. "Twins." She said. "Mrs. Riddle, you're having twins."

"Twins?"

"Two. You're having two babies. Not one!"

"Two." Mrs. Riddle said weakly.

Alice looked down. "Stay awake, Mrs. Riddle. Don't go to sleep now, you've come too far."

"Push." Martha and Alice encouraged. Mrs. Riddle let out a tired scream as she lost almost all will to live. She heaved as she felt as though the world was sinking in on her.

"I can't do it." She said. "I can't. I'm so tired."

"PUSH!" Martha said and Mrs. Riddle gave a slight shove before her eyes fluttered shut and they wouldn't open again. "Get me the knife!" Martha said. She didn't want it to have to come to this but she knew she would have had to use it. Mrs. Riddle was way too weak to give birth. She quickly aimed as she slid the lower womb open and dug through the dying entrails. She found the child almost immediately. She pulled him out and Alice cut the cord. Martha wrapped him up in a warm, wet towel as she wiped at him. He began to cry much like his brother.

Alice had sat him in a small cot.

"Another boy." Martha said. She looked at the woman on the bed.

"She never even got to name him." Alice murmured.

Martha rocked the boy as she thought of a name. "John Edward. After my late husband."

"That's a nice name, Mrs. Cole." Alice said approvingly. "What an odd name his older brother has. Tom Marvolo? Marvolo? Where did she come up with such a name?"

Martha shook her head. "I have no idea."

They were both pretty babies, but as Martha looked on, she found that they were pretty in an entirely identical manner. She only hoped she would be able to remember which one was which.

She looked at the clock to record the time of his birth and then she realized with a shock that it was over twelve at night. Tom had been born five minutes early on December 31, 1926. His brother had been born January 1, 1927. "How odd." She mused. "They were born on different days."

"They were? How...Unique."

"Indeed."


	2. AWAKEN MY LOVE

**WANDERLUST**

 **CH 2**

 **AWAKEN MY LOVE**

It became rather clear to Martha that despite their identical appearance, it was rather easy to differentiate between the two brothers. Not because of some instinct of her's, but rather she noted their entirely different personalities.

From birth, as Alice had tried to place the nipple of a warm, bottle of milk into Tom's mouth, he had refused to take more than half a bottle at a time. He ate little with each feeding and this meant they had to feed him more and he was usually hungry at every hour. John, however, drank at least a bottle and a half every time he was fed. He was greedy and tried to take every last drop before pure sleepiness seemed to overtake him. He slept more than Tom as well.

Martha began to find it unnerving how Tom just seemed to stare up. He didn't blink too much and he just seemed completely out of this world. He often stared at things for far too long, as if seeing something that wasn't there. It caused the hairs on Martha's neck to always stand rigid.

As January became February and as February became March, Martha began to truly note just how odd Tom was. He never smiled. His eyelashes thickened and the tops of both of their heads began to grow thick, black hair. He was so unlike his brother. John carried a smile on his face as the older children played around them. He let out little, unsure giggles as he grasped at their fingers and faces. Tom didn't interact. It was as though they were night and day. John knew how to light up a room, even at such a young age. Martha found herself favoring the youngest one (although she swore she never held favorites), but maybe that was because she had named him for her late husband. She had been widowed at an early age. Her husband had fallen ill with influenza and had perished a few years back.

She had been told that it was acceptable as a widow that she could remarry after a certain amount of time had passed but she had loved John with her entire being and she had been absolutely devastated when he had died. She knew her time as a married woman had come and gone. She now had over eight children to take care of. Two of them were infants, three were toddlers, there was one eight year old and one ten year old, and then there was, of course, Alice. She felt quite proud that there were so few orphans.

She knew that it was because the world was a changing place. It was growing and shifting and become safer for all walks of life. When she thought of the future, she thought of stability. For a long period of time, that hadn't been her feelings. She had lost two brothers in the Great War. She knew that there couldn't be another one like it.

She looked down at the sleeping children. For once, Tom had gone down peacefully. She knew it wouldn't last that long and they would be stuck trying to figure out what had gone wrong. She smiled at John. He had been asleep for a good hour already and she knew he would sleep most of the night away. She swiped a finger through his rich, black hair and left the room.

It was silent for a good second before John hesitantly open an eye and then another and he blinked rapidly. He had ended up in this strange place after - after; well, he couldn't exactly remember that anymore. His memories were hazy and strange. He could remember some things and then he couldn't others. It was weird. He knew that these people talked funny and that he certainly had never talked like them before. It was as though their place of origin was at the tip of his tongue, but he could never quite get it out.

He could remember that he had been on okay person. Or had he? He had been shocked that there hadn't been a hell or a heaven for him. Only a new life. He had woken up to a blurry world. It was slowly becoming more clear and he was relieved. He remembered that it had been similar in his old life. He hadn't been able to see quite right.

He looked moved his head slightly. He wasn't even strong enough to pick it up on his own. There was never a worse feeling than that. He liked the people well enough. He had come to identify the older woman as Mrs. Cole and there was a girl called Alice that was often in their nursery, but that was about all that he could remember. But they kept him in a cradle with a baby they called Tom.

He had come to realize that this was his brother. Often, they talked about how much they looked alike and how confusing it was. They talked of his brother's weird mannerisms and already John felt something clench in his heart. How dare they talk about Tom that way? And Tom was just a little baby. It wasn't like he could help himself.

He analyzed his brother's chubby cheeks. There was a little truth to Mrs. Cole's concerns. Tom didn't like to sleep. Or eat. He didn't like to do a lot of things. John noted that he didn't even like to be held and he was sure that he had never even seen Tom smile. He tried to think on it, but there wasn't much that popped up.

He shook his head off of thinking of it and tried to go to sleep; for real this time. He had to or else he would keep himself up all night trying to think of his old life rather than focusing on his new one.


End file.
